


Balancing the Scales

by Telaryn



Series: Grifters and Honest Folk [4]
Category: Leverage, White Collar
Genre: Angst, Captivity, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Rescue, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peter decides to go after Neal, he doesn't go alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Balancing the Scales

**Author's Note:**

> Gift fic written for [](http://theron09.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://theron09.livejournal.com/)**theron09**.

Peter was grateful that Sara had suggested he contact Nate Ford instead of reaching out directly to Eliot Spencer. Even though it was Spencer’s skill set he needed if he had a hope of finding Neal before Collins did, working directly with the man went against every instinct that had ever been trained into him from his parents all the way up to his teachers at Quantico.

Ford had agreed immediately, promising to be in New York by nightfall. Peter had already arranged to meet with Jones and Diana to parse out those clues he’d managed to collect so far, but he kept his phone close and told them he might have to leave at a moment’s notice.

He wasn’t expecting the knock on his door, and the two men standing on his front stoop. “You said we were under a time constraint,” Ford said by way of greeting. Peter saw his attention tick into the room and take in Jones and Diana before returning to look squarely at Peter. “Can we come in?”

Peter suspected he wouldn’t have hesitated if it had just been Nathan Ford. The man had a way of putting people at ease that reminded him of an older, more settled Neal. The problem was his partner; even though Sara had also spoken up for Eliot Spencer, the man’s file was enough to set every hair on the back of Peter’s neck on end.

“Problem, Boss?” Diana had come up behind him, sensing his reticence. Peter flinched, realizing he didn’t have a choice. He’d set this in motion by calling Ford in – whatever his feelings about Eliot Spencer, the man was Neal’s best chance.

“No,” he said finally, stepping aside and gesturing the newcomers inside. “No problem.”  
***************************  
Nate hadn’t expected the extra agents when he and Eliot had decided to head straight for Peter Burke’s home. He sensed Eliot taking a step back, but his hitter didn't indicate that he sensed a double cross or anything of that nature.

 _Well, we did change the rules,_ he thought, nodding his thanks to Burke as the agent and the young woman standing behind him stepped aside to let them through.

“This is Diana Barrigan,” Peter said, once Nate and Eliot were safely inside. He nodded at the younger man who'd half-risen from the table. “Clinton Jones. They've bothed worked with Neal, and I trust them.”

Predictably, Eliot snorted. “You're assuming we trust you.”

Nate turned and warned his teammate silent with a glance. Even the little bit of information he'd gotten from Agent Burke over the phone had him intrigued – and crazy though it might be, he trusted Sara not to steer them wrong. “What do you know so far?” he asked, turning his attention back to Burke.

“I was able to speak to Neal late last night,” Burke said as they all went back to the table and the three laptops that were open. Eliot went with Diana to retrieve more chairs; Nate could already see the younger man turning on the charm and hoped he knew what he was getting himself into. “We're trying to piece together what we've got to see if we can come up with a likely location.”

“Do you know where Agent Collins is with his investigation?” Nate had already argued with Sophie about bringing someone else along to keep an eye on the glorified bounty hunter. She hadn't liked anything about the job as he'd laid it out, but had stated point blank that if he was determined to run off and play with the federal government, he should take more back-up.

Eliot had taken offense at that, which had caught Parker's attention, and the whole thing had quickly devolved into him having to pull rank.

While the rest of them were busy laughing themselves sick over _that_ , he and Eliot had made their escape.

“I'm afraid I haven't been very subtle with my feelings about his investigation,” Peter admitted. “Between that and the suspicions surrounding Neal's flight in the first place, he's playing things very close to the vest.”

 _Great._ To distract himself, Nate studied the computer screen nearest him. The NOAA website was up, showing data on world-wide storm activity in the previous forty-eight hours. _NOAA? Really?_ He was going to have to get Hardison involved, at least remotely – otherwise they were going nowhere fast.

 _Oh Mr. Federal Agent – would you mind if I let the world's greatest hacker have unfettered access to your computers for a few hours? He won't do anything with the information – really!_  
****************************  
 _Fucking Caffrey._ Even while part of him was busy trying to win over Agent Diana Barrigan, most of Eliot's mind was wondering what kind of bizarre karmic payback he was trapped in when it came to this kid.

Once upon a time, before the idea of following Nathan Ford on his cracked out mission to become a modern day Robin Hood had completely derailed his plans, Eliot had been Damien Moreau's chief enforcer; his right hand, as the saying went. Neal Caffrey, on the other hand, had been a very minor thief and con-artist – the kind that Parker and Sophie could have outmaneuvered in their sleep. His primary claim to notoriety in the underworld was that he was in love with Damien's kid sister Katerina.

And he'd been so clueless he hadn't realized what sort of badness he was brushing up against by following his heart or what it meant. Damien knew though, and Damien _hadn't_ approved.

Back in those days, when Damien hadn't approved of something, he typically sent Eliot to take care of it. So even though he'd dated Kate himself a couple of times, Eliot had gone one night to Caffrey's house to deliver a warning. Nothing he'd done had left permanent damage, but he'd terrorized the kid badly enough that when fate had thrown them together a year ago, Caffrey had tried to pull a gun on Eliot.

“So what exactly is it you do, Mr. Spencer?” Eliot flinched, realizing belatedly that Agent Barrigan had even asked the question. She had one chair from the dining room, and indicated that he should grab another.

“I'm a retrieval specialist,” he said automatically. “K & R, some bounty hunting, items – I go where the money is.” He wondered if Nate had twigged to the fact that this one was going to run their identities as soon as she had a moment to herself. Nate trusted Burke because Sara Ellis trusted him. Eliot wasn't handicapped by the same considerations, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Diana Barrigan didn't always do what she was told either.

 _Well ain't we a misfit bunch?_ he thought, following her back to the front room. If Nate insisted on playing with the feds, Eliot was forced to wonder if Caffrey stood a chance of anything but a one way trip back to prison.  
******************************  
 _”You run, I run.”_

_”Then let's run.”_

Even by he and Mozzie's admittedly scattershot track record, Neal had to acknowledge that things had unraveled quickly. He'd screwed up by keeping hold of the pager, screwed up by going to see Ellen in the first place...screwed up in so many ways that it had landed him here, handcuffed and gagged in a primitive cage in Dobbs' mansion.

 _You wanted to get caught._ The bitch of it was that he couldn't even deny it to himself. He'd been so close to freedom before Keller had gotten his hard-on about using Neal to enhance his own career in DC. He'd had a life – he was building something that was real, that he could trust – something Peter had said he would be able to keep and be proud of.

He'd wanted to get caught, but he'd wanted _Peter_ to be the one to catch him. Not this guy – Collins – with his guns and his bounties, he saw Neal the same way Keller had. He wasn't a person to men like that, he was a means to an end.

Which, he liked to think, was why Collins had completely missed the fact that the rickety stool he'd left for Neal to sit on had a nail in it that was easy to bend into position. He also clearly hadn't seen the notes in Neal's FBI file about how Mozzie had taught him to pick handcuffs with little more than a patient outlook and a nail exactly like this one.

He had no idea how long it took for him to get free of the metal binding his wrists. After his first round of gloating was finished, Collins had been too busy elsewhere to keep a close eye on him. Eyes firmly on the prize, Neal had kept himself calm, kept his breathing easy, and worked as steadily and patiently as he could.

Finally he was rewarded with a click and the bracelet around his left wrist coming open when he pulled on it. Adrenaline surging through his veins, he checked for guards then sprang to his feet, pulled down his gag, and went to work.

Once he'd determined the cage had been a retrofit, it hadn't taken Neal long to work out a plan on how to get free of it. The problem was that exploiting the cage's only real weakness was another slow, uncomfortably loud process. He set the edge of the handcuff between one of the bolts and the cross-brace and started trying to work it free.

 _Eight tiny bolts between me and freedom,_ he thought, feeling a burst of excitement in his chest as the tiny piece of metal finally loosened. _Eight tiny bolts and the combined might of Dobbs and the US government and all those semi-automatic machine guns._

Okay, so it wasn't the most perfect plan he'd ever devised.  
****************************  
Breaking into Dobbs' stronghold hadn't been difficult at all. Eliot had a momentary pang of regret that this hadn't been a team operation. Dobbs had made the same mistake all men with too much money seemed to make. He'd assumed that paying the most money meant he got the best to protect him, so he hadn't been prepared for somebody like Eliot Spencer nearly making it down to his “dungeon” level without running into anyone at all.

“Parker would love this,” he muttered, picture the thief laughing at how easy it had been so far.

 _”Don't get cocky,”_ Nate warned. _”Dobbs hasn't kept himself out of federal custody all these years by playing a sloppy game._

“He's also never come up against us,” Eliot countered. “Seriously Nate – if this guy really is number four on the FBI's dance card, maybe we should try taking him out ourselves?”

 _”You're forgetting who else is likely on the FBI's dance card,”_ Nate said dryly. _We're here to do the one job. I'm not interested in getting us tied up doing something we're not prepared to do.”_

“Ah, if Sophie could hear you talking,” Eliot laughed. He froze for a moment – the faint clink of metal on metal had reached his ears. “Hang on Nate – I think I'm close.”

Around one corner and half way down another hall, Eliot turned onto a balcony. The balcony ran a hundred yards north, and two over-large openings showed him a steel cage and Caffrey. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, realizing immediately what the thief was up to. “Boy's gotten resourceful in his old age – I'll give him that.”

_”What's going on?”_

Instead of answering Nate directly, Eliot stepped into the room. “Thief like you and you can't just pick the lock?”  
*************************************  
Neal's heart sank, and he raised his hands. “Come on,” he began as he started to turn around, “you can't have expected I would give up that easily...” His voice trailed off, and his eyes widened as he realized it wasn't Collins _or_ Dobbs that had come on him so quietly.

“I like the scruff,” Eliot Spencer quipped, coming the rest of the way into the room. “Doesn't make you look any older, but I'm sure the ladies appreciate it.”

“I haven't had any complaints,” Neal breathed, his heart now hammering painfully fast against his chest. Even though they'd worked the same side of one case together, Spencer was the face of his deepest nightmares. “What the hell are you doing here?” If Collins had hired Eliot Spencer to help keep him in line, the man knew a whole lot more than Neal – or he suspected even Peter – had ever thought to give him credit for.

Spencer crouched at the cage door. Lock picks had appeared in his hands as if by magic. “Getting you out,” he said, ticking his gaze up briefly to meet Neal's eyes before returning to focus on his work. “Sara Ellis suggested that your FBI friend bring Nate and me on to help rescue you.”

Neal blinked. “Wait…what?” It was all coming too fast for him to process. “Peter hired _you_ to come get me?”

There was a brief flash of silver in the air, arcing from Eliot to him. Neal caught it reflexively, grinning when it turned out to be a handcuff key. “Get that other bracelet off,” Spencer ordered, still focused on his work, “and stop asking stupid questions.”

Neal didn’t wait to be told twice. He freed his other wrist and pocketed the handcuffs and the key, then snatched at the bandana Collins had used to gag him, pulling at the knot with shaking fingers until it came loose. He flung it to one side, turning back towards Eliot just in time to see Collins coming in the room with a gun drawn. “Eliot!”

“Well isn’t this interesting?” Collins smirked, drawing a bead on the back of Eliot’s head. Spencer hadn’t stopped working – Neal couldn’t tell if he was even aware how radically the balance of power had shifted against them. “I’m going to need you to move away from that lock, _Eliot._ ”

“Just a second,” Spencer said. “I’m almost finished.”

While Neal gaped at Eliot’s unruffled attitude, Collins took another step closer. “I don’t think you heard me, son.” The muzzle of his sidearm brushed Eliot’s hair, and suddenly everything changed. Eliot whirled, slapping the pistol aside. He grabbed for the barrel, but as he twisted it out of Collins’ grip, the weapon discharged unexpectedly. Fire stabbed into the meat of Neal’s thigh, and suddenly he couldn’t stay on his feet any longer.  
************************  
 _Oh for fuck’s sake._ Collins had training, which meant that it took a second or two longer than normal to disarm the man and put him down. In that couple of seconds, Neal had been shot.

“Give me a sec, Nate,” he growled in answer to the questions suddenly in his ear. “Got a situation.”

Jerking open the door, Eliot entered the cage and dropped hard to his knees at Neal’s side. “Stay with me kid,” he said automatically, fingers probing the still-spreading bloodstain for an entry wound.

Neal cried out in pain suddenly, back arching against the stone floor. Eliot felt guilty for hurting him, but at the same time relieved that the position of the wound wasn’t necessarily life-threatening. “Come on, Caffrey,” he muttered, pulling Neal into a sitting position and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Let’s get this off.”

 _”How bad is he?”_ Nate had clearly reached the end of his patience.

“If he’s lucky he’ll go at least a little bit into shock so it won’t hurt so much when I drag his ass out of here.” Eliot began wrapping torn pieces of the shirt around Neal’s thigh. “Otherwise he’ll recover.” He tied the fabric down as tight as he could, drawing another cry from Caffrey’s throat. “I’d say we’ve got about a minute before Dobbs’ guards put in an appearance.”

“You need help?”

Eliot snorted. “You got an army in your bag of tricks, boss?” He looked at Caffrey’s face again. His eyes were closed, and pain had covered him in sweat, but he wasn’t unconscious. _Not yet._

“I’ll figure something out.”  
*************************  
Peter watched Nate carry on a conversation with his friend who was currently several miles away breaking into Robert Dobbs’ stronghold. Ford had requested space while he maintained contact with Eliot and Peter had tried to respect that. “Conversations during an operation can be tricky when you’re only hearing one side,” had been his explanation.

“Is it just me, or does the pseudo-suit not look happy?” Almost as if he were deliberately echoing Peter’s thoughts, Mozzie was suddenly at his side looking extremely put out.

Peter sighed heavily. “It’s not just you.” Making up his mind, he went to Ford’s side.

The dark-haired man glanced at him. “Everything’s under control.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Peter scoffed. “What’s happened?”

Ford paused, looking uncomfortable. “The good news is that they’re on their way out.” His eyes unfocused briefly, and Burke realized he was listening to something over his ear piece. “Ah…the bad news…the bad news is that your man’s apparently been shot. Eliot says it’s not life threatening, but it’s going to slow them down quite a bit.”

“Shot?” Peter’s heart rate had spiked on hearing the word, but he forced himself calm again immediately. Losing control wouldn’t help Neal. He’d trusted him to Ford and Spencer – he had to see it play out.

Mozzie, on the other hand, had no such reservation. “Shot?” he cried, closing the distance between them much faster than Peter would have assumed he could. “What the hell do you mean shot?”

Ford backed up a step, holding up his hands defensively. “Collins surprised them. While Eliot was taking care of the gun it apparently went off and hit Caffrey in the leg.” He looked between them. “Eliot assures me it’s not life threatening and that he can still finish the job. I trust his assessment of the situation.”

“The problem is,” Mozzie snapped, “that I don’t trust you.” Peter’s first instinct as Ford’s expression darkened was to try and smooth things over, but he couldn’t shake the memory of what he’d seen in Eliot Spencer’s file. The man was dangerous – possibly the most dangerous man Peter had ever run across. _And you trusted Neal’s life to him._

“Eliot Spencer is the most honorable man I’ve ever known.” He realized that Nate Ford was looking directly at him as he spoke. The man had an uncanny way of appearing as though he was reading your thoughts. “He will bring Caffrey out.”  
*************************  
 _God, don’t make a liar out of me, Eliot,_ Nate thought ruefully. Even though Burke was well out of his jurisdiction, they didn’t need an overt enemy in the FBI. And while Mozzie didn’t come across as much, Hardison’s background check on the weaselly little sidekick had been eye-opening to say the least. _Dude’s connected,_ had been the hacker’s assessment, _in every way we don’t want to cross._

Plus, in a far less practical way, Nate knew that Eliot needed to do this. His hitter could talk himself blue about how he wasn’t trying to atone for his past, but Caffrey was an unexpected chance to make at least one of his past misdeeds right. It was why Nate could stand before these two men and say with every confidence that if they failed to rescue Neal Caffrey it would be through no fault of Eliot’s.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked Burke, once things had calmed down and Mozzie had drifted back to whatever currently had the bulk of his attention. He turned and leaned casually on the stone balustrade, looking out over the harbor and the ocean beyond. “Getting him free of Dobbs is only the first step.”

Burke looked genuinely troubled at the question. “I know,” he admitted. “I didn’t go through all this just to see him go back to prison. And if I stand aside and let him escape…”

“You’re betraying everything you’ve worked your entire life for.” Nate didn’t envy Burke. He’d wrestled with some very similar moral dilemmas over the years, but an amateur could see that Peter Burke definitely lacked Nathan Ford’s well-developed sense of situational morality.

The small expression of sympathy did earn him a smile in return. “Exactly. There has to be some middle ground, some way I can fix this.”

 _Ah guilt._ Nate knew that one too. “Take it from somebody who’s been there, Agent Burke. All you can do is your best, and all you have to do it with is the information in front of you at the time.”  
*****************************  
By the time they reached the perimeter of Dobbs’ stronghold, Eliot was tempted to pocket his comm. He’d fought off nearly a dozen guards – mostly the sort of disorganized guns for hire he’d expected. Dobbs had shown himself once, when Eliot was in the process of putting down a pair of his men. Without thinking Eliot had swept up a pistol from one of the fallen guards and peppered the stone below Dobbs’ position with a series of carefully placed warning shots.

As soon as the man had disappeared, Eliot automatically took the gun apart and dropped the pieces on the ground.

“It’s compulsive with you, isn’t it?” Neal observed when Eliot went back to where he’d been forced to abandon the kid. “The thing with the guns?”

Eliot dimly remembered doing the same thing to the weapon Caffrey had tried to pull on him. “I don’t like them,” he grumbled. “Too much margin for error – too many possibilities for the wrong person to get hurt.” He glanced pointedly at Neal’s leg as the two of them hobbled along towards freedom.

Neal laughed, but Eliot could hear how much pain he was in. “I think Collins was fine with shooting me, actually.”

They continued on in silence, dropping off the road once they were clear of the outer wall and heading into the surrounding woods. “Nate, we’re going to need Plan B,” Eliot said. Caffrey had started struggling as soon as they got solidly onto the uneven ground.

 _”Got it,”_ Nate acknowledged. _”We’ll meet you at the rendezvous point.”_ There was a small pause, then the mastermind added, _”Just for the record, we’re up to Plan G.”_

A retort was already on Eliot’s lips when Neal stumbled – nearly taking them both down. “All right,” the hitter sighed, stopping and steadying his companion. “Five minute rest.” He realized in the slightly softer light that Neal was paler than he should have been. “I want to check your wound anyway.”

It took some maneuvering to get Neal settled, but when he was, Eliot moved immediately to check the bandage. It was soaked through with blood, but very little of it seemed to have traveled down Neal’s leg. “How are you feeling?” he asked, glancing up at Caffrey.

The kid laughed weakly. “Not really feeling much of anything right now, tell you the truth.” He sobered slightly, his startlingly blue eyes meeting Eliot’s gaze squarely. “I did what you asked, you know. After the last time.”

Eliot settled back on his heels, knowing immediately what Caffrey was referring to. “And..?” Neal had been near-hysterics at the time, not willing to listen to much Eliot had to say about the true nature of his one great love Kate Moreau. _To be fair, it didn’t help that you’d just disarmed him._

“And,” Neal went on, “you were right. There was a lot Kate never told me about her past – who her real family was. I also learned that I probably should thank you for not doing worse than you did that night.” His indrawn breath was hoarse and ragged, and Eliot could tell the kid was still far too traumatized over what had happened. “Moz told me Damien Moreau can be quite creative when it comes to getting rid of people.”

“Moreau’s in jail,” Eliot said. “Not getting out anytime soon. As far as the rest of it goes – you were in over your head. I tried telling Damien that the fault lay with Kate, but like most brothers he tended to be pretty blind when it came to his little sister.”

Neal’s answering smile was soft with memory. “She had a way of doing that to people.” He was quiet for a long moment, lost in memory.

“Look,” Eliot said finally, “have you talked to somebody about what happened…what I did?”

Caffrey looked for a split second like he was going to protest he was fine, but then his entire body seemed to slump. “No,” he admitted. “I’ve been too afraid to. I guess I kept hoping it would fade, that I would get over it.”

Eliot snorted. “Yeah and how’s that working for you?”

“Not good,” Neal admitted. He had an easy smile to go along with the charm – Eliot could see how he’d managed to stay in the game as long as he had, and how he’d managed to win over three FBI agents to the point where they were willing to put their careers on the line for him. “This helps though. Thank you.” He chuckled. “Can’t remember between the trauma and the blood-loss if I remembered to say it?”

Eliot studied Neal for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, trusting Nate to keep his silence, he said, “Do you want me to get you out of here?” he asked. “We’re not getting paid for this job – it’s really more of a favor.” He paused, weighing what he was going to say next. “Way I see it, what I owe you is more important anything that might be between Nate and Sara Ellis.”

He was grateful for the continuing silence over the comm. The offer had been an impulsive one, but he didn’t regret it.

And Neal was clearly overwhelmed by the possibility of slipping past the FBI entirely. He had the means – all he needed was the method. Eliot could tell he was tempted.

In the end though, something greater than temptation won out. “Thank you,” he said, “but no. I was happy with my life in New York. I really need to see if there’s a way I can get at least part of it back.”

“You trust Burke that much?” Eliot’s eyes narrowed slightly. This was the crucial question – Neal’s answer would tell him exactly what type of man Caffrey had managed to become.

That same smile suddenly lit his face again, and when he spoke it was with absolute conviction. “I do,” he said. “He’s earned it, and I owe him not to leave him in trouble if there’s any way I can make it right.” He paused. “And as far as what you might think you owe me?”

He shrugged. “I think this makes us more than even.”


End file.
